


Dumbs and Asses

by seffersonjtarship



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boys In Love, Fluff, M/M, No Angst, Sam Ships It, and they're young and in love. do what you will with it., can u imagine? me? no angst?, they are just a couple of dumbasses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29710407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seffersonjtarship/pseuds/seffersonjtarship
Summary: He's not jealous. Jealousy isn’t the right word for it. Is it? Whatever. He's not jealous of Sam. He doesn't want to be anything that Sam is to Dean. But when Dean calls Sam a ‘Bitch’ it’s with such fondness and so much warmth. The man positively glows when he gets a ‘Jerk’ in return.So Cas (okay, sue him for wanting to be liked), asks "Where are you going, idiot?" and pushes his chin up expectantly. He softened his 'd' and sharpened his 't' and Dean, for all this dilemma of choosing the perfect endearment, raises his eyebrows and huffs a breathy "Wow."He... does not seem pleased.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 17
Kudos: 88





	Dumbs and Asses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sinnabonka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinnabonka/gifts).



> WARNING: ANY GOD FEARING PERSON MUST NOT READ ANY FURTHER. CONTAINS MANY AND VERY BAD WORDS.
> 
> [beta-ed by  ImmortalEcstasy,  i owe you my life.]

  
  
  


He's not jealous. Jealousy isn’t the right word for it. Is it? Whatever. He's not jealous of Sam. He doesn't want to be anything that  _ Sam  _ is to Dean. But when Dean calls Sam a ‘Bitch’ it’s with such fondness and so much warmth. The man positively glows when he gets a ‘Jerk’ in return. 

So Cas (okay, sue him for wanting to be liked), asks "Where are you going, idiot?" and pushes his chin up expectantly. He softened his 'd' and sharpened his 't' and Dean, for all this dilemma of choosing the perfect endearment, raises his eyebrows and huffs a breathy "Wow." 

He... does not seem pleased.

* * *

  
  


They're sitting opposite each other, eyes skimming pages to find anything about another monster with a death wish and this is the perfect time, so Cas swallows and looks at Dean. He's been planning this for a week now, and Dean needs to know. And Dean has to like him,  _ like  _ like him. He's used to being an angel of the fucking lord, for fuck's sake, and Cas sure does like him. like a lot.  _ Like  _ like. Like, it could very well be love. So here goes nothing, as Dean would say.

Cas clears his throat, sets his eyes on the face in front of him and says in his strongest voice, "Douchebag," that's a word Dean is fond of. "Do you want to get lunch?" then, a beat, "I'm hungry."

Dean just looks at him for seven whole seconds, (and this is when Sam tells them _to_ _use the equipment to screw instead of your eyes_ ) and then his lips curl to one side. He gets up, putting on his jacket, and says "Who you callin' douchebag, douchebag?" and Cas follows him, a smile fighting its way onto his lips. 

* * *

Sam’s riding shotgun. Dean is telling Cas about nothing relevant but evidently of extreme importance. Cas sits awkwardly in the back seat, knees pressed together, head leaning towards Dean, and Sam's contribution to the one-sided conversation but a loud snore. Dean jerks his head and looks at Sam, appalled, and shakes him awake. The Impala has rules, 

  
1) Driver picks the music, everyone else (especially the shotgun) can shut the fuck up   
2) Only and  _ only _ Dean gets to eat pie in Baby, and    
3) A sleeping shotgun may very well be taunted to death. 

  
So Sam gets shoved into the back seat, and Cas gets to slide up front, welcomed by a muttered "...the audacity of this bitch." which reminds him. 

"How long are we on the road, asshole?" 

Dean says, "Four, five hours?" and continues reciting his thesis on Kurt Russel's career choices.

* * *

Because Dean Winchester is an idiot, and Castiel is quite possibly in love with him, given the number of times he has been reduced to dust for and because of the man, it is only necessary that until Dean reciprocates with an expletive-coated derogatory nickname, Castiel must keep all prospects away. But, as established before, Dean Winchester is an idiot, and when he calls Crowley a douchebag, the ex-seraph, even in his human timidness could destroy a small country. In that moment, the anger he feels is so strong that he surmises it’s only second to his undying love for the idiot in question. 

Instead, he stares daggers at Crowley until he feels the large back of a hand on his arm. “You okay, man? Looking smitey over there.” Sam says, “Dean’s being a bit of a jerk, dontcha think?”    
Good lord, if only the Winchesters would shut up.

* * *

Three weeks from then, he meets the best friend. She hops out of her AMC Gremlin X and shoots a banana grin at the trio, and in a too-cheerful-for-a-Wednesday voice, says, “wassup, bitches?”

And Dean - _ohmygod -_ Dean _kisses_ her! It’s not the kind of kiss Castiel would like, this kiss is akin to the arm pats Sam gets. But it’d be nice, he thinks, to tuck his head under Dean’s, hands in his dark blonde hair, Dean’s breath in his hair. Then Cas could reach up, trace the side of his jaw, drag a nail across Dean’s bottom lip, all while looking into his darkening eyes-

”...who I think it is?”    
He catches the end of her question, which doesn’t sound as much as a question as a revelation. He smiles, squinting and brows furrowed, and gets wrapped in what is referred to as a ‘bear hug’ in human lexicon. They spend the day watching ‘bad’ movies and eating ‘bad’ pizza and cracking ‘bad’ jokes, but Castiel has had a good day. He tells Charlie this, as if it were a secret, and she chuckles and punches his shoulders. Then she grins at Dean, “You were right. He _ is _ adorable.” Dean widens his eyes just a bit, and then bows his head and Sam downs a beer simply to not laugh. 

* * *

They are at a diner, just the two of them. Sam is ‘taking care of some stuff’, which means he’s either burning a body or indulging in sexual congress with the black-haired Doctor who hovered in Agent Samuel Stile’s personal space a bit much. They are sitting on opposite sides of the booth, and Dean has three of his fingers in his mouth, licking off salt in a manner that fits the word obscene, and not the sexy kind. Cas kicks his shin under the table.

“Stop being gross, Dean!” 

“Don’t think I will, sweetheart.” he says with a shit-eating grin, and yeah, fuck, Cas loves  _ Dean.  _

“Stop it.” Cas all but growls.

“Stop what?” Dean asks, followed by putting in almost all of his fist in his mouth. He’s rewarded with another kick, firmer this time, which, fair.

“Stop calling me sweetheart.” Cas mutters, ducking his head. 

“Sure Darling.” 

No really, if the Winchesters could just shut _up._   
Now, Cas thinks, it won’t be that hard to lean in and press his lips to Dean’s and wipe the smirk off his face, but right now Dean’s mouth is gross and there’s salt and spit on his chin and above his upper lip, and he’s sure he’ll get another chance to shut him up. He talks too much anyway.

* * *

It only gets worse from here. Dean calls him ‘Sunshine’ in passing. then, ‘huggy bear’ on a call. ‘Amigo’, ‘Sweetie’, ‘Honey’, and the worst- ‘Darling’. that's proper  _ endearment _ . 

and that's  _ not  _ what Cas wants. It’s nice… he concurs, but not in the Winchester dictionary. Sam is Dean's favourite person in the whole wide world, and if Cas wants to be anywhere near that spot, this needs to stop. Right now. So he toughens up, and hence every ‘Sugar’ is answered with a ‘Stupid’, every ‘Dear’ with a Dimwit’, and every ‘Sweetheart’ with a very ingenious ‘Shitpoop’. Dean actually groans at that, and Sam thinks it's the funniest thing ever. It’s become a game, which Sam finds amusing, Cas finds annoying, and Dean… Dean takes it up as a challenge.

* * *

They’re leaving in twenty-five, and Cas is packing his duffel, when Dean scrabbling around his sheets and pillows, asks, “Hey, seen my phone?” Sam chooses to ignore him, instead stacking the sheets of lore.

Cas calls Dean and hears a familiar ringing coming from inside his zipped bag. Drawing his brows together, he fishes what seems to be, yes, Dean’s phone, out of the bag and sees a _ Cas _ _ 🥨 _ flashing across the screen. 

“Why is there a pretzel next to my name?” he asks, and why indeed.

Dean grunts and Sam snickers, folding his arms to look at them both and asks, “Yes Dean, pray  _ do _ tell,  _ why is there a pretzel next to Cas’ name? _ ”

Then, he gets up, and with a meaningful, stern look at Dean says, “You got this.” and leaves.

“Bitch.” Dean says, but his voice is low, and Sam’s smile is a mile wide, and Castiel does not understand what’s going on.

* * *

“It’s nothing really. It’s just. Nothing.” Dean says, and Castiel still doesn’t understand.

He stands there, drawing his eyebrows together and stares at Dean, who looks like he might throw up. “ _ What’s  _ nothing?”

Dean sighs, “Just. The pretzel. Just.  _ ugh _ ,” he runs his hands across his face and looks at Cas, and continues, “It just looks like a... heart. That’s why.”

It…  _ looks like a heart.  _ Okay. “What about it?” Cas asks.

Dean gets up, groaning, “ _ Cas _ . Cas. like, a  _ heart _ .” he presses his eyes shut and takes a step towards him. “Fuck, I mean, I  _ like you _ . Or whatever.”

Cas can feel the gears change in his mind; he can _ feel _ it. He can  _ feel _ Dean’s eyes on him, and he can  _ feel the fucking air shift _ around them, electric and buzzing with absolutely nothing. Cas gulps with an audible click, and stares right back, just like they do in chick flicks and romance novels. And  _ all this _ happens in a duration of three seconds, before Cas finds himself asking, “You like me, like,  _ like _ like?” 

Dean takes another step ahead, a shy smile on his face. “Like _ like _ like. Yeah.” he reaches for Cas and encircles his wrist in his hand, then freezes.

“Uh. Do you, um”- before he’s being pulled forward as Cas answers his question, eyes shut in reverence, smiling into the kiss. Dean tugs him closer by the collar of his shirt, arms rounding his waist and Cas looks up, “You  _ like _ me. You like…  _ me _ ?” 

Dean laughs, a bubbly, boyish laugh and kisses him again, tongue sliding against the inside of his bottom lip, teeth grazing slightly, and pulls away. Cas chases after him, and Dean follows, laughing in the kiss, as Cas whispers a muffled “You  _ like me _ ” into his mouth.

Dean smiles gloriously, and fuck whoever disagrees with him being God’s finest creation and fuckfuck _ fuck  _ Cas loves him  _ so _ much, all of him, when he’s stupid, when he’s gross, when he’s simply impossible. Dean tilts Cas’ jaw with his right hand and fixes him with a warm gaze, and Cas says, “I love you, Dean. I-” and he wants to say something, he knows he wants to, so he repeats, “I love you.”

“I love you too. _ More. _ ” Dean holds his face with both hands now and pushes into another kiss, deeper and _ something else _ , and Cas sighs. 

“ _ Me. _ You  _ love _ me.”

“Yeah _dumbass_. I love _you._ Fuck. I really do _love_ you.” 

Cas smiles a wolfish grin then, and Dean doesn’t have to know, but Cas has definitely killed two birds with one stone today. 


End file.
